


In the Heat of the Moment

by LelithSugar



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: ...except not at all, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Meta, Omega Verse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, but no actual omegaverse in this fic, trying new things, you can see where this is going, your kink is okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: When is an A/B/O fic not an A/B/O fic?Harry has some acquired tastes in erotic fiction and a partner hell-bent on making even his most unusual fantasies come true.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 39
Kudos: 117





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Less of a first chapter than a prelude, but here we are!
> 
> Thanks to Emphysematous, Renai_chan, Addie, Pax, Starrr... al the usual suspects who have dealt with me bouncing this one around and going "oh one day I'll..." for _literal years_. 
> 
> With nothing but love for those who do dabble in the 'verse, please accept my humble offering.

In the Heat of the Moment

"Whatcha readin'?"

Eggsy bounces onto the bed, and it’s a sure sign of how absorbed he was that Harry jumps and - before he can think better of it - tilts his screen. Eggsy wouldn’t deliberately invade his privacy, but the instinct is too quick and it’s given him right away.  _ Damn. _

"Oooh, it’s porn! Or…  _ erotica..."  _ Eggsy wiggles his fingers in the direction of quote marks and raises his eyebrows. He’s damp and half naked, hair spiky from being rough-dried with a towel and Harry was so engrossed in self-published smut that he’s not only missed him getting out of the bath but that at least an hour must have elapsed since he got in it.

Well, When you're caught you're caught. 

"Oh, no. It’s definitely porn."

Eggsy looks freely surprised that it was that easy, but Harry is far harder than he’d realised he was and Eggsy would have noticed that any second. If he was expecting Harry to have his nose in Lady Chatterley’s lover - or something - at least for a moment he’s the one on the back foot: a stance Harry is going to absolutely make the most of for the few seconds it lasts, whilst he works out how exactly he plans to play this out. 

“Aha, busted! What kind?”

Now, why this would have to happen when Harry was indulging in the one specific train of filth left to embarrass him, he can only attribute to karma. 

He could make something up, but there’s too high a risk that Eggsy would catch something amiss and wonder what - after all they've shared - Harry might feel the need to hide an interest in, and start drawing some incredibly unsettling conclusions that could worm their ugly roots into the very foundations of their relationship. It’s not worth the risk just to spare him a blush this evening. Besides, what on earth would he say? What can be left taboo between them that Harry would willingly mislead his love to believe he was interested in?

Plainly nothing, and certainly nothing Harry can think of off the cuff, with his semi- visible erection liable to rat him out like Pinocchio's nose. So he must bite the bullet.

And underneath how daunting a prospect that is… there’s the hint of promise. They have been in almost this situation before, more than once, and countless defiance of death notwithstanding, Eggsy might just be the reason Harry Hart is the luckiest man on the planet. At worst he's going to be ribbed relentlessly, reminded he's a pervert and encouraged to never bring up this particular strand of weirdness again and at best…

Well. “Best” makes him open his mouth. Close it again, swallow, sigh deeply, and then dive in. 

Why do they not keep brandy on the dresser anymore?

"Do the words  _ alpha _ and  _ omega _ mean anything to you?" 

Eggsy tilts his head when his eyebrows furrow, a little like an attentive dog. 

"Greek alphabet?” He tries, and he isn’t wrong but he knows he isn’t quite there either. “American frat houses? Oh! it's a god thing, innit? Something about the coming of Christ?"

Full of surprises, as ever. Still, unfortunately, no dice and Harry can’t work out whether he’s being deliberately obtuse.

"With regards to porn?"

"With regards to porn it best be nothing to do with the coming of Christ. I've got limits, Harry." He looks genuinely perturbed and ventures no other suggestions. So, against the odds it appears that Eggsy may in fact have avoided this particular grubby dark corner of the internet and Harry will have to start from the top. 

He takes a moment to close his eyes and consciously relax his jaw from a grimace or approaching hysteria. This is fine.

"I, ah, shit, how do I put this without sounding awful?" Eggsy continues to look at him expectantly, offering nothing. There’s a heat under Harry’s sternum that hasn’t decided whether it’s shame or excitement yet, and is presumably going to wait for Eggsy’s verdict to make its mind up. "Well. Let me preface this by saying it is absolutely only about humans, -"

"Right, because that's a thing you totally need to say when it is."

"- but is based, I think, on animal pack dynamics, or something.” Is it? In immediate retrospect Harry is not at all confident on his own grasp on the concept, let alone how to explain it, but he’s opened his bloody great mouth now. “It's sort of a sci fi thing, though I've got no idea where it originated,"...  _ and am making an absolute pig's ear of getting round to why it’s sexy _ , but now he's come this far he's got to at least try to explain his way out of this hole he’s dug "...in which humans have. Ah. Alphas and omegas as their sex designation, rather than gender, and a far more animalistic relationship to sex on the whole. More irrepressible instincts and… you know. Pheromones, and all that.” 

Eggsy’s smile is spreading into something like glee. For all he claims not to be a sadist, he does seem to take a great deal of amusement from watching Harry squirm. 

“And um, the key point... would be that there is a distinct and powerful mating cycle.  Omegas go into heat. Sometimes that's just a strong desire, sometimes it's a biological necessity. As in, if they don't get their needs...seen to - 

"Get fucked?" 

"Yes - thank you - they'll be really distressed, they might even die -" 

"Oh, like ferrets!"

"Well. Quite." Harry resists the urge to shake his head to check his brains are still between his ears. Sharing a bed with Eggsy has had its unexpected moments, delightfully, and in itself has been something of a unforeseen treat but somehow he never quite managed to imagine they'd be sitting in bed alluding their fantasy sex life to that of ferrets. 

“But essentially it’s about that instinct driven, fuck now, think later sort of dynamic. With a bit of… extra detail. It is usually very uh, graphically written.”

“Like how?”

There’s something softer than schadenfreude to that smile now and Eggsy’s body language as he settles into bed is inviting, approaching sultry. Either he too has some peccadilloes he’s not volunteered yet or Harry’s luck balances out on the fact a few dirty words in his voice are enough to turn Eggsy on.

“Well. Usually even male omegas are described as self lubricating… wet. They get wet. Heightened senses and marathon sex. Biting.” A strategic pause in which Eggsy, very pleasingly, licks his bottom lip. “Alphas are there for all your size kink needs, and their cocks have knots… you know the bulb that swells up? Rather like dogs, actually... but look, never mind the -“

"Is it a _Twilight_ thing?"

"I suppose it might have been originally. I don’t know. This isn’t." Harry wobbles his phone to indicate the material he’s been reading although why he chooses to do that immediately escapes his good sense. Why draw attention to the godawful trash he’d got himself indulgently sucked into tonight? Given time, he could certainly choose some recommendations, pick out something that would play on Eggsy’s kinks and might ease him in, but this...

"Hold your horses a fucking second. Mating as in like,  _ breeding?  _ How the fuck have they got that working then?"

"Uh. Not all of it gets that far and I… usually stop reading before then if it does. If it's well done I suppose the  _ implication _ of  _ possible _ breeding ups the ante a little but I'm not sticking around for the biology.”  _ And I am absolutely not about to explain it to you when you’d just stopped looking at me like I'm totally bonkers. “ _ It's mostly that imperative. The need, the desperation, that I find appealing.”

Eggsy makes a wordless, hot little noise and his hand comes to rummage under the covers, presumably in the direction of giving Harry a fondle to establish exactly how appealing he finds it but getting distracted by his stomach muscles. Suddenly, continuing his ham-fisted explanation seems like a capital idea as long as he keeps talking.

"There are less explicit themes. Highly protocoled courtship rituals, decoration, gift giving... it can be oddly quaint before it takes the plunge into brutal desperate fucking frenzies. ”

"And you're into that." The arch of his eyebrow in judgement is well deserved but cutting nonetheless. 

"For my sins, yes." It is quite plain from the combination of the look he's trying to give Harry and the look on his face underneath that he is at the very least entertained by the entire prospect. "Though not so much the worldbuilding as the sloppy sex, honestly. You develop some acquired tastes by my time in life." 

"Nah, I love how excited you get about the freaky shit.  _ At my time of life.  _ You're ridiculous. One minute you want werewolf sex, the next you're ordering a fucking Saga catalogue." Eggsy stretches his legs long and his arms up, ostensibly ready to tuck into bed but it does put the fact he’s hard himself rather front and centre. "Alright. I'm about it." 

The simmering arousal that the discovery hadn't quite doused surges back to full force as Eggsy wriggles beneath the duvet and presses his hard, nude body to Harry's side. Harry suppresses the urge to thank him for the minimal mockery and the quick forgiveness because it doesn't feel as though it was too much of a hardship for him. And he doesn't rue the chance to do something with his excitement because, well, the night is yet young.

"So. You gonna send me some links, or you gonna read me a bedtime story?"

  
  



	2. ... and down to business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I exist entirely for Eggsy's 110% dedication to a roleplay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy belated Valentines', a blessed Lupercalia to my favourite fandom, full of my favourite folks.

xXx  
  
  


"So. Remember that tentacle dildo?"

In time, this will come to be recalled as one of Eggsy's best first-moment-home non sequiturs. Top three, at least. All the important things -  _ I love you, thank god you made it, can you nip to Tesco on the way home, I missed you _ \- tend to get said as soon as safe return is secured, but the first thing out of his mouth once the front door is closed tends to be some gem from the deeper workings of his brain

"I struggle to forget, honestly. It haunts me." It truly does. The purchase had seemed like such a fun premise in the small hours of the morning after two bottles of wine and several rounds of escalating debauchery, but since delivery four weeks later it’s never been used. Never come out of its bag, other than to be hysterically wobbled across the room and now it languishes in the drawer, mocking Harry for his lack of imagination, forever threatening to be the only sex toy they own that he feels he would need to justify if someone found. 

… to date. Because Eggsy mentioned it for a reason, and is holding out a box. 

"Yeah, well, the website struck me like the place to look for all your monster fucking needs. So. I got you a present, didn’t I." 

Harry doesn’t really have time to work through what needs he might be referring to because he remembers the website’s shipping bags, and this means Eggsy has gone out of his way to find a box with which to reveal the toy to Harry like he’s proposing.

He’s proposing something, that’s for sure. And the phrase  _ monster fucking  _ seems to be lodged somewhere in the inner workings of Harry’s ear but not quite making it through to his brain, echoing around like a sneeze in a cathedral. 

The toy looks a bit like a plumbing part: a thick, broad, bumpy tube of silicon with a connecting sort of loop in an eyecatching dense bronze glitter.

"That's… intriguing. And very pretty." 

"You got no idea what you're looking at, do you?"

From context it's obviously a sex toy, but - 

"The first clue, and no more."

Eggsy sidles up and into Harry's arms, back against his chest so Harry can nuzzle against his temple and they can both hold his gift. He doesn’t smell like he usually does - sort of blank, neither sweaty and in need of a shower but not of aftershave as he would if he’d just had one - and for a moment that’s distracting but Harry forgets when Eggsy kisses the side of his jaw and chucks the box on the coffee table to show Harry the toy properly.

"They've called it a  _ sheath,  _ which is not a sexy word but whatever. You wear this bit over your dick, yeah," from the way he holds it it's suddenly obvious but Eggsy tucks two fingers down the barrel of the longest part to model it, fingertips poking from the end to show how the head will be bared, "and it makes it like you've got a knot, see? And this bit goes round your balls, to keep it on."

It’s obvious, when he puts it like that. It’s also bloody huge: Harry’s nowhere near being able to touch his middle finger and thumb around the widest part. By design it adds the wearer nothing in length, and there isn’t enough clearance at the end to give someone a decent fucking without putting the bulbed bit in, so it’s not for decorative purposes...

Harry’s hot with the momentary flash-burn of implied inadequacy, quenched by the truth: it’s his fantasy, after all. He said he wanted a lover literally, painfully insatiable by normal means, by anything except what Harry can give… what his alpha can give, he may as well start getting into it. Eggsy has never been the type to give a performance less than his all. 

"Do you think… do you think you can take this?" There are many, many questions but that’s somehow the pertinent one.

"I reckon. One way to find out, ain't there?"

" _ Now _ ?"

"We don't have to! Not if you're like, not in the mood or whatever. But if you are, I'm half set up." He cocks his head towards the stairs, boyish, like he's offering nothing more flamboyant than a quick shag, and Harry couldn’t say what specifically is giving him away - other than the cut of his trousers - but it’s quite clear that he’s on board. "Gimme like ten minutes and then come up?"

Eggsy doesn't even wait for him to answer, he's evidently that transparent. 

Harry dithers in the kitchen. He contemplates a drink, thinks better of it and grabs a Perrier from the fridge instead. He loosens his tie. He showered thoroughly at HQ - all forecasts indicated a decent chance of sex when he got in so he’s not unprepared for this turn of events, as such… but the idea that Eggsy has obviously planned something specific, evidently spent a great deal of time whilst Harry was gone - longer than that, actually, what’s the fulfillment time on those toys? - vividly imagining, planning, fantasizing along the same filthy lines Harry calls to mind when he’s struggling for more ordinary inspiration is somewhat overwhelming.

He counts out a generous amount of time for Eggsy to… get into character, or whatever he’s doing - nothing more specific really holds up to a great deal of thought, Harry’s blood pressure is concerning enough as it is - before he makes his way upstairs.

The bedroom’s empty, lights dimmed and candles burning on the windowsill, pluming heady sandalwood into the air where they’re far enough from the bed not to be a fire hazard. They’re not having  _ that _ scare again, thank you very much. All the better, because the bed is piled high with every cushion, blanket and throw pillow in the house, lumped up against the headboard, pushed out to the sides in something like a nest and Harry is immediately glad he caught up on the flight home or he’d want to just dive in there and go to sleep. 

The soporific effect of the soft lighting and furnishing is entirely vaporised when Eggsy hurls himself in through the door of the en suite, naked as the day, flushed and gleaming and erect, and sends Harry’s pulse racing.

"Thank fuck you got back so quick. It... it came on whilst you was away." 

Somehow, he’s nailed it dead centre. Harry couldn’t have scripted this, couldn’t even have directed Eggsy to a specific story that had  _ exactly  _ the right blend of eagerness and desperation for his tastes or explained how much scene setting he’d need in practice but it’s just enough. They both know what’s going on here. Harry just needs to tap into his considerable improv skills to make the best of the prospect of Eggsy ‘in heat’. 

_ Eggsy. In heat.  _

"How is it making you feel?"

"Dizzy. A bit weak…" H's managed to look hazy and hot but there’s no anguish to it, like he’s intuited from Harry’s recommendations that he prefers a heat more hedonistic than frightening. The urgency is still there, though, and palpable in Eggsy’s energy as he presses up against Harry’s body with wet kisses and eager hands. "...fucking horny as hell and nothing helps.” He nods and there are in fact toys scattered amidst the blankets and either his preparation or his attention to detail - why not both?- is flawless. He draws a hand down his shining belly and skims past his cock to fondle his balls, to drag them down like they ache, like he’s trying to keep himself under control. Harry's mouth is too dry, suddenly, to urge him on, but he takes the cue anyway. “Need my alpha to make it all better, yeah?"

It should be funny. It should be ridiculous, but this track of fantasy is well worn in his brain and finds its groove easily, unconsciously as Harry starts to work on his buttons, kissing whatever bit of Eggsy’s face is closest, mouthing blindly at his neck. Eggsy pulls him close and rubs up against him, even more wanton and less inhibited than usual, raging hard and needy, and the feel of his bare soft skin dragging against the dry wool of Harry’s suit make Harry's throat stick when he swallows and he almost chokes. 

"Smell me. Don't I smell different? " And Eggsy does, aggressively sweet on the pulse points, like candyfloss and maple syrup with the savoury undertone of sex and salt, like ice cream by the sea, and Harry's got no idea how he's done it but its heady and delicious, and Harry has read enough that  _ smelling intensely sweet _ now equates directly to  _ desperately needs to be fucked  _ and nothing about Eggsy’s conduct throws the fantasy in the least. He  backs to the bed and pulls Harry down into the cradle of his spread legs, still urging up to kiss and rut them together even whilst he wriggles back up the bed, dragging them into a pile in his nest whilst they fight Harry out of his clothes.

"Come on, don't make me wait. You know I need it." 

The words themselves are a sweet little shock of lust, just a touch dialed up from his usual repertoire but it’s noticeable, and appreciated. Eggsy grabs Harry's hand and trails it down his chiseled abs, over his hard cock to meet slick on the inside of his thighs: he’s not just wet but absolutely sopping with lube, dribbling down and when Harry touches him, when he so easily slips the tips of two fingers in, more runs into his palm.

Harry needs to know too badly to stay in his role, for just a second. 

"How did you…?"

"Syringe," grins Eggsy, and the break from fantasy makes no difference, because the fact he was invested enough to come up with that is just as wonderful, somehow just as potent an indication of how much he wants this as him being naturally wet would be, if that were real. It feels real, warm slick coming from deep within him as Harry angles for his prostate, searches for the move that will make Eggsy moan for him and is rewarded with a bright, loud keen instead. 

Harry lets Eggsy pull him out of the rest of his clothes and Eggsy needs no further working open: he draws his legs up, Harry's cock slips in all the lube, head catching in the dip of Eggsy's hole and with a tilt of hips he sinks straight in. 

Eggsy coughs out a shocked groan. Harry only doesn’t because he can't breathe; being swallowed into tight heat so abruptly makes his vision swim for a second, such is the rush. He kisses along Eggsy’s jaw almost instinctively whilst he gets his brain back together, just for a second, scraping teeth down and back up his eagerly bared neck until he comes to nuzzle his nose into Eggsy’s hair behind his ear where he can bask in that sickly candy scent, where he can let Eggsy hear in the weight of his breathing what this is doing for him.

They fall into sweet rhythm so quickly, so well that Harry wonders if the fantasy has run its course. He’d only be the slightest bit disappointed: Eggsy stretched beneath him is pliant and wonderfully responsive, the muddle of blankets and pillows keeping them hot enough to sweat and deepening the arch of Eggsy's back, his rigid cock leaking precome on his belly and Harry could fuck him just like this until they both came, quickly and easily. It’s been at least a week, which is long enough to miss the heaven of being inside him without being long enough to forget. Long enough to shake off all the lovebites Harry incurs for having him like this, long enough not to want to chide him for replacing them so greedily, not when it feels so good.

“Nuh uh,” Eggsy manages heavily, between gasps and mouthfuls of Harry’s shoulder. “Not like this. Lemme…”

Harry is cold, bare and confused for just the few seconds it takes Eggsy to disengage and untangle them, to turn himself over. 

And then he presents for him. Bends forward until his face and chest are pressed into the mattress, knees wide apart and back dipped to spread his gorgeous thick arse and Harry’s cock responds with an eager jerk before his brain even registers excitement, before he feels warm arousal flood his body. Truly, instinct is a powerful thing and it appears his hindbrain has forgotten that they’re acting.

“That’s beautiful, darling. Good boy… good omega.”

Was that a growl, or a purr? Either way, a nice deep rumble from Eggsy’s throat that isn’t “ _ fuck off you demented fucking weirdo”  _ so Harry will take it. 

Normally he’d use this break for extra lubricant but there’s just no need, Eggsy’s still dripping. He must have really filled himself up with it; the way he would feel after a few rounds, being repeatedly mounted and mated by his alpha… or others, depending on your preference of lore… and something in the pure primal filth of it drenches Harry’s every nerve in desperate want. He can’t get back inside him quick enough. Really, this is too much. 

Eggsy drags over a couple of big cushions and stuffs them under his belly so that he doesn’t even have to hold his weight up. He turns his head so that Harry can still hear him hissing and puffing and swearing and he starts to drive his hips, either fucking the heap of pillows or fucking himself back onto Harry’s cock in quick little rolling thrusts that make pleasure sing out down Harry’s back.  Harry smooths his hands over Eggsy’s shining, freckles shoulders: kneading at the bunched muscle to soothe the aches of his overwrought body, soothing down his sweaty back to grasp his rutting hips and slow him before they both get carried away. After all, there is more to this yet…

"Tell me what you need, darling." He is poked by Eggsy’s toe. It still feels fucking ridiculous but for god’s sake, Eggsy has gone so far to make this the way it is, if he does laugh they'll be laughing together. "Omega."

"More. I can take it.” 

So Harry fucks him harder, closer to the pace Eggsy was trying to set himself but they both know that’s not what he was asking for so Harry only continues until he’s out of breath, until the deep prickling of pleasure threatens to overtake his chest and then he withdraws on a deep sigh. 

“Unghh!” Eggsy goes for the melodrama whilst he’s got the breathing space, tossing his head and rubbing against the pillows of his nest. Harry slides two fingers in to keep him filled to press hard down into Eggsy's prostate, stretching the hot softened muscle so that he can slide his cock along the backs of his fingers and into the waiting tightness of Eggsy's body along with them and suddenly Eggsy's voice is deep and his own again.

"Oh  _ fuck,  _ fucking hell…" 

It’s a hell of a stretch but otherwise Eggsy takes it without protest, lifting his hips to spur Harry into moving again. Harry keeps his hand still, his fingers deep in Eggsy's body whilst he gets back to fucking him until he’s slipping quick and easy again, all that lube doing wonders and maybe a couple of those toys truly were used in anger? It’s a rare set up for them and the pit of Harry’s core swoops at the mere thought of his fingers and his prick inside Eggsy at the same time, stretching him wide. He almost forgets the intention altogether, orgasm shining within reach for both of them if he isn’t mistaken, but this gorgeous creature did not go to all this effort to come on ordinary cock.

The sheath takes a bit of fumbling in slippery hands, but with a couple of drops of lube Harry manages to slide himself into the chamber and absolutely resist the delirious urge to reflect that it’s a bit closer to putting on a turtleneck than a condom.

It’s a pleasant squeeze. Not as tight as an ordinary cock ring, not restrictive, but definitely additional pressure along most of the length of his cock. It’s thinner, softer than it appeared other than the bulb of the knot and when Harry runs a handful of lubricant along his length it feels strangely lifelike, both to his palm, which barely registers the difference in texture, and to his cock which feels the touch nonetheless. 

An impatient whine draws his attention back to the bed and  _ \- Jesus bloody Christ -  _ to Eggsy, who has reached back and buried three fingers into himself whilst he waits.

As beautiful a sight as that is, he’s not waiting a second more than he needs to. 

Harry pulls Eggsy’s hand away and doesn’t let go of his wrist, twists it up behind his back as he pushes Eggsy down into the bed and pushes the head of his cock inside, teasing him with just the couple of inches above the knot dipping in and out of him. It’s thicker than Eggsy’s used to and it’s absolutely dizzying for Harry, but he doubts it’s giving him anything like the depth he wants. 

" _ Ohhh _ fuck."

"Is that good?"

“Yeah." He swallows hard, and Harry can hear the effort in his voice. "Fuck, yes.” 

“You want more?”

Eggsy groans as the widest part of the toy bumps against him. He’s not even putting that on now. 

“Tell me.”

"Do it. Knot me!”

“You’re ready?”

“I fucking need it,  _ please  _ Harry. Alpha, please…”

And who could deny him anything, asked like that?

Despite all the lube it's an actual concerted effort to push the knot into him and Harry has to apply some pressure with his thumb to slowly force past the resistance of Eggsy’s muscles. Eggsy grunts like he's winded, a noise Harry almost echoes: the tightness of Eggsy's body and the sheath both is crippling. He cannot move. 

He may not need to. The rhythmic clenching of Eggsy’s arse could do him in quite easily, and if Harry’s not mistaken Eggsy might get there himself, in the end. It’s certainly too much to drive in and out so instead Harry shoves in deep and pulls close, reaches his hand down to grasp Eggsy's dripping cock and pull at it, until he clenches down.

Harry couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s restricted to rocking back and forth just enough to move the knot in him a little, to feel the pull within Eggsy’s body but not close to popping it free. The loop around Harry’s balls tugs and keeps him tethered - to the toy, to Eggsy, to the material word - whilst Eggsy grunts and whimpers and his body wrings tight in waves, speechless now with the unbearable tension of pleasure. His cock pulses. His knees start shaking. Harry watches him draw up in something like rapture, clinging to his own control with his teeth...

_ Teeth _ . Eggsy loves his neck bitten any time and this scenario is nothing if not the perfect excuse to indulge that to the full: it won’t be complete without it. Harry has left so many little marks nipping and mouthing at him that he'll not be able to show his neck for a week as it is. He curls over him and kisses down to the favoured spot, that cord of flesh between neck and shoulder that tenses so eagerly under his mouth, and sets his intention with a little graze of teeth. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, fuck, come on," and he can hear in the tightness of his voice that if anything Eggsy is holding back if anything, trying not to come, trying to last long enough for the bite he knows is coming. So bite him Harry does, hard on the top of the shoulder, had enough to feel Eggsy' muscle tensing against his teeth as Eggsy cries out: to suck on the skin right through it as he shakes and falls apart and comes all over the bedspread.

Harry sucks harder whilst he fights not to yell out in his own pleasure - the most exquisite he knows, of allowing the clenching and shuddering of Eggsy's climax to bring him to his own orgasm; to come into the desperate clutching heat of his body. He may not be able to come repeatedly, not the buckets of it an alpha could but he can let Eggsy's seizing grip wring him of every last drop and somehow it's just as satisfying.

Sparking, like an old neon light, aching like merry beautiful hell, Harry settles them down to the bed. Eggsy shudders whenever Harry licks over the gloriously dramatic bite mark at the base of his neck. One might imagine it hurt him, if they didn’t know better. He still smells of sugar behind the ears, and all that nuzzling is a fine way to keep him distracted for a few moments:  a deal of fidgeting, a couple of shifts and tugs that are bound to be uncomfortable as Harry frees himself from the loop that secures the toy in place and holds it carefully whilst he withdraws from the middle. Without the core of Harry’s cock the sheath itself squashes and Harry is able to pop the bulb free and swipe it out with what he presumes is minimal discomfort, because Eggsy only grunts drowsily and tilts his head so that Harry will keep fussing with the lovebite.

Christ, but it  _ is  _ a beauty. Harry had loosely accounted for Eggsy’s not wanting to take his shirt off around anyone overly observant for a few days, but preventing anyone at all from looking below his jaw for a good week is starting to look like the more sensible precaution.

...Though, knowing Eggsy he’ll probably start sending people pictures as soon as he scoops his brains back into order and Harry is far too smug and sated - and, frankly, exhausted - to feel the slightest bit chagrin about that. Harry stretches back, savouring his aches, wondering loosely if on some future, better rested occasion this might be spun out into enacting a whole weekend’s heat strike, with food and supplies brought up to their bed with them, to nest and - 

"Oh my god!" Eggsy groans; his hands slap onto his face and drag it down into a momentary gurn. "I didn’t even ask!"

"My darling. I don't think the clarity of my consent was in question at any point."

"No, I mean…” Eggsy opens his eyes and it’s as though he’s looking behind the curtain of his own creation for the first time this evening. "Why did I just assume you would be the alpha? You had to do all the work!"

"I took it as a compliment. And it wasn't exactly a hardship."

"Be honest. Is that the way round you think about, when you…?”

Why he’s shy of the work  _ wank _ considering the events of the past hour Harry cannot imagine, but the mood’s too cosy to rib him, too enticing to shatter, and Harry knows him well enough to be confident that the truth won;t be taken for ingratitude for this incredible evening.

“Sometimes.” 

Which is, of course, all the answer Eggsy needs. He picks up the toy - he’s right, there’s nothing sexy in the least about the word  _ sheath,  _ is there? - and admires its glitter in the light, thoughtful. 

“Yeah. I suppose it would fit me alright, too.”

There’s no reason to believe it wouldn’t, which means Harry is going to have to process the idea of a reversal of tonight’s roles at some point. 

...As though he hasn’t processed it, vividly and explicitly, many times already. But at least for now - as he drifts so readily and lucidly into sleep he feels as though he’s been drugged by something more nefarious than a good orgasm and the burnt sugar scent layered on the spot by Eggsy’s armpit - that will remain between Harry and his GoogleDocs. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

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> 
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